The Sworn Knight

by Robert Ryan

  But that was all he needed now. He could not follow Ferla, not in the sense that he could in his body. But she was not that far away, and merely by thinking of her the world blurred and darkened. There was a sensation of movement, and when things stilled again he was in a different place.

  He could sense her now, his enemy. She was close. Once more he concentrated on her, and again the world darkened as though he closed his eyes.

  This time, when the sense of movement passed, he floated in the air and Ferla was nearby. So too her two companions. They were oblivious to him, and he knew that his spirit form was invisible.

  That needed to change. He must take form here, for without form he could not speak to her, and that was what he most desired.

  He reached out with his thought, and his magic was one with it. His powers were limited, yet still he could summon a mist, and this he did. It gathered around him, thickening, and it took his shape.

  He appeared before them in a small wood. They drew their swords, and one, seemingly a scruffy vagabond, held an axe. But there was shock on their faces, and Savanest liked that.

  “Are you ready to meet your fate, Ferla that was and knight that you have become?”

  His voice was like the sighing of the wind in the treetops. It was mournful and eerie, and he liked it. Here, he had an opportunity to scare her, but also to gauge her character and powers, if she truly had any.

  “Begone, apparition. You are nothing here,” she said. As if in proof of her words, she sheathed her sword. She was not going to show fear.

  “Nothing?” he answered. It was time to disabuse her of her misconception.

  Raising his arms, he summoned a mist from the ground, and he made it cold so that a frost formed on the earth.

  “Nothing?” he repeated. “You are too sure of yourself, girl.”

  Even as he spoke he sent tendrils of the mist swirling and leaping. Let her see what it was like to be bound by magic, to be thrown to the ground and to have the spirit-mist constrict her throat.

  To his surprise, she uttered one of the great words of power and summoned fire. It swept forward and crashed into the mist, sending it hissing into oblivion. The frost on the ground melted, and he felt humbled.

  Worse, she laughed at him. And that he could not bear. Even as Lindercroft had underestimated her, so had he. How was it possible that Aranloth had trained her in such arts in so short a time?

  But in truth, she had the advantage here. She was in the flesh, and he was but a thing of spirit. She had her full powers, and he only a shadow of what was his. But for what she had done, he would make her pay, and that would be in the flesh, too.

  “Which knight are you?” the girl asked. “Tell me, so I shall know your name when we meet in person, and so I can mark it on your grave.”

  He felt a chill, but then he understood that she was attempting to do to him exactly what he intended for her; instill fear into the opponent to unduly hasten their plans and put their minds in disorder. He laughed.

  “I am Savanest, Morleth Knight and servant of the Great Cause. That will mark my grave, but you and your friends and all you know will be dust on the wind ere that day comes, if ever it does. I will—”

  To his dismay she raised her hand and sent a sheet of flame rippling through the air. Almost he felt the burning of it, but he was only spirit and she could only surprise rather than harm him.

  Yet still, the fire tore through the mist that formed his shape, and it fell to tatters. He could have reformed it, but he knew she would dispel him again.

  Burning with a white-hot rage, he thought of his body back at the hollow, and even as he did so he felt the bindings of his flesh and his eyes flicked open.

  He wanted to yell and shout, but he calmed himself. He was a knight, and he had achieved his purpose. Despite her actions, the girl had been scared. That much he could tell, and it was good to know. She felt fear, but she did not let it crush her. That was very good to know, because victory in battle came from understanding your enemy.

  And if she was his enemy before, she was doubly so now.

  His anger cooled. It would wait for fulfillment, and his revenge on her would be sweeter when it came. Beyond doubt, he would not kill her. Better by far to bring her in shame to the king, and by the power of the Morleth Stone make her serve. Yet some part of her mind would know what she once was, and that she had become a slave to what she hated. That would be the best revenge of all, and something that acted as both punishment to her but also furthered the cause he served. That was perfection.

  He sat where he was, and thought. It was time to let revenge go. That, he could enjoy later at leisure. What he must do now was consider what he had learned.

  It was small wonder that Lindercroft had underestimated her. She had power far greater than she should have for her age and experience. But her magic was not great in itself. At best, she was only a good student. His was greater.

  Her skill with a sword was another matter. He could not gauge that without touching blades with her, but he did know she had killed Lindercroft in combat rather than by magic. That bespoke of high skill indeed. But he would not be fighting her. He would use were-beasts to bring her down and capture her.

  He turned his mind to the half-breed that was with her. He must have been part Cheng, and it showed. He was nothing, and yet the steady gaze of his eyes that showed no surprise or fear had been disconcerting. He was more than he seemed, and someone to watch.

  It was the little man with the axe that was the greatest mystery of all though. About him, there was little to see and yet much to feel. He possessed magic, and he wielded a strange axe that made Savanest feel uneasy. There was something of magic about it too. But both magics were outside his experience.

  At any rate, his decision was made. Both men must be treated as dangerous, and both must be killed swiftly. Then the girl would be his.

  He stood and returned to the hollow. Already, plans were swirling through his mind.

  14. Hunted

  Ferla did not show what she was feeling. Fear coursed through her, but as she had been taught to do she accepted it, and did not let it hinder her actions.

  It was daytime, and they had been resting, but there would be no more sleeping now.

  “So,” Asana said. “That was the enemy. He seemed somewhat grander than Lindercroft. But I suspect he is no better at fighting.”

  Ferla knew what Asana was trying to do. He was reminding her that she had defeated a knight like this before, and while there was reason to be cautious she had no need for undue fear. She understood what he was doing, and her heart surged with affection for him.

  “Hey!” Kubodin said. “You think he was grand? Maybe he was. Just like a rat with a gold tooth thinks he’s something special.”

  Ferla could not help but grin at that. She knew what Kubodin was doing, too. Humor was the warrior’s age-old way of shrugging off fear.

  She was lucky to have these two with her. Very lucky, indeed. But she was still in charge, and the responsibility for what came next rested on her. They showed no sign of taking that burden from her, and she understood now that it was not a test but a way of preparing her for the harder times ahead.

  “We have to leave,” she said. “And fast. We don’t know how far away he is, but he has to be close to find me by magic like that. We’ll have to risk traveling by day, at least for the moment. There’s more cover in the terrain now than there was earlier. If we see something, we have a chance of hiding that we didn’t have before.”

  “Do you think he knows where we are?” Asana asked.

  Kubodin answered that before she did, and Ferla was surprised even if she did not disagree.

  “I don’t think he does,” the little man stated confidently. “If he did, he wouldn’t have given us warning like that. He would have tried to surprise us. Besides, that mist thing was only a small magic. Finding someone by magic is not the same as locating them. It’s like a mule finding his way home by himsel
f. He can do it, but if you ask him how he can’t tell you.”

  Asana raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

  “Kubodin is right,” Ferla agreed. “He did what lòhrens call spirit walking. Finding someone like that is like tracking down a campfire in pitch dark by the smell of smoke. You can do it, but you couldn’t describe to someone else exactly where you found it. But he does have a general idea, and the faster we’re gone from here the better. Also, I don’t think he has the power to spirit walk great distances. He must be close.”

  “He shouldn’t be,” Kubodin said. “All your tricks must have led him on a merry dance. But still, I don’t think you’re wrong. He’s not that far away.”

  There was no more discussion after that. They had not rested fully after the previous night’s march, but they broke camp and left swiftly.

  They moved ahead just as they had always done. Ferla led, Asana was in the middle and Kubodin rode his mule at the rear. All of them, however, kept a close watch around them.

  There was nothing to see, but that made Ferla feel no better. She was being hunted again, and she was beginning to hate that with a passion. Nor did she know if elù-draks were abroad. Not knowing if an attack would come by air or land was disconcerting. But it did not change her decision to travel by daylight, and the others had not disagreed with her.

  They traveled at speed. Ferla made no attempt to hide their trail, though she wanted to. What was needed now though was to put as much distance as possible between where they had last been and wherever they went next.

  In truth, she did not think that Savanest knew exactly where they were. But when he found the place where he had come across them while he spirit walked, he would recognize it. And he would know exactly when they had left there, and how far away he was from them.

  No doubt, he would follow their trail from that place. She expected that, but there was a time to hide a trail and a time not to worry about it. Speed was not the only factor. The ground was even more important. When she came to a place where she could pull one of her tricks, that was the most effective way of trying to slip the hunt. Trying to deceive a tracker over unfavorable ground was just a waste of time.

  They rested fairly often, pacing themselves. But they moved quickly when they were up and about, which was most of the time. Night settled in, and they kept going because her regular breaks ensured they were not too tired.

  The stars sprang to life above. The smell of dew on the grass, and herbs, bruised beneath their boots, filled the air with a sweet scent. Bats whirred through the shadows, seeking insects, and high above some flying night bird cried loudly. It was not a call that she knew, but it was the sound of wild lands and she was at home.

  Savanest was no doubt a city man. This was her world, and she was at home in it in a way that he never would be. He must have a good tracker with him, better than she had expected, but that was nothing to fear. She and her companions were strong. They could walk through the night and probably would. When the time came, she would disappear into the wild and leave the enemy dumbfounded.

  So she hoped. But doubt nagged at her. Always, the enemy seemed to find her and Faran.

  She wondered how Faran and Kareste were progressing. It seemed that the enemy had come after her, and she was glad of that. It meant Faran was safer. Even if Savanest had split his forces, he himself had come after her, and he was the greatest threat.

  They walked through the night, and Kubodin often walked too, holding the reins of the mule and leading it forward. He offered them all turns to ride, but they refused. The mule needed to be spared as much as they spared themselves, and if the worst came about then Kubodin at least could escape on the mule and seek Faran out.

  The gray light of dawn saw them enter a new kind of country. It was less flat than it had been, and the ground turned rocky in places, which was exactly what Ferla wanted. Now, it was time to confuse the enemy.

  They did not stop just because the sun rose. Prevention was better than cure, and Ferla intended to both outsmart and outdistance the enemy.

  They came to a rocky slope, bare of grass. This Ferla ascended, and she made no attempt to hide their trail, but coming down the other side she veered to the west and there entered a dry wash bare of dirt and grass. It was mostly just sandstone, and it stretched ahead for a long way, but she did not follow it.

  She led them off that path, and back uphill along a patch of short grass. Here, they left little trail, and she slowed down to a very slow walk indeed, being careful to leave as little sign as possible of their passage. When they had reached the rocky slope again, she found a few dead branches from bushes and went back to brush away what little sign they had left on the grass.

  “Let them find us now,” she muttered.

  Kubodin grinned at her, but Asana said nothing.

  They backtracked then, coming around the side of the hill and crossing the obvious trail they had left while ascending. But this time they took great care to hide their passage.

  They headed east then for several miles, and Ferla was sure that trick would lose them. With luck, they might spend a day or two trying to pick them up again, if they ever did.

  The sun was moving toward noon before they took a long rest. Ferla was confident, but she still would have preferred to push on. But they had not slept for a long while, and they needed rest.

  It was not a long break though. They took turns to keep watch, but they slept only until mid-afternoon. Then they began their trek again.

  Once more they swung to the north, and the afternoon became hot as they traveled before a breeze sprang up at their backs. The longer grass here bent before it, flowing like the sea, and they crested a long slope bare of trees.

  At its top, they found something that unnerved them. It was a campfire. Ferla felt the ashes, and they were cold. It was several days old, but then they discovered others. A company of men had camped here, and given the disciplined nature of the campsite, and the evenly spaced fires, Ferla surmised soldiers were responsible.

  “Savanest camped here,” she said.

  “Maybe,” Asana replied. “But there might be others looking for us too.”

  It was a disconcerting idea.

  She turned and looked at their backtrail. It was more habit than anything else, but to her shock there were signs of movement far away and she caught the glint of metal in several places.

  “How can they possibly have found us so quickly?” she muttered, and a wave of despair washed over her.

  15. Trapped and Bound

  They fled. Ferla led them at a rapid pace, and she knew it was pointless to try to hide their trail further. All her tricks had come to nothing.

  She did not understand why though, and that disturbed her.

  The long shadows of dusk seemed to creep after them, and night, when it fell, felt like it had eyes. Where could they go? What place would offer safety? The dark was always a friend to evil.

  Ferla chided herself. Her thoughts were superstitious nonsense. She was a hunter, and the wild lands, during the day or at night, were her home.

  Fear was beginning to make her think differently, and no doubt that had been Savanest’s intention when he had appeared. The remedy to this was information. She needed to know how they kept finding her in order to plan a way to overcome it. But how could she obtain that knowledge?

  Far away in the east, a storm brewed. The night sky was dark there, but stabs of lightning could be seen. She heard no thunder though, and the storm seemed to be tracking northward rather than toward them.

  She cursed her luck. The storm, if it enveloped them here, would have been to their favor. Wind and rain would have hidden their trail.

  Toward midnight, they came to a cluster of trees, and there they threw themselves down and rested. Even the distant lightning faded, and the world was quiet and peaceful around them. But Ferla knew it would not last.

  “We need to know what Savanest is doing,” she said.

  Kubodin e
yed her. He guessed what she intended, but Asana did not.

  “It’s too dangerous to go scouting,” Asana said. “Best to leave them be, and save our energy for escaping, don’t you think?”

  Ferla summoned up a grin. “You’re right. Best to stay here.”

  Kubodin shook his head. “That doesn’t mean she won’t be scouting, master. But it’s dangerous, what she intends.”

  Asana looked confused, so Ferla explained to him exactly what she intended.

  “It was Savanest that gave me the idea. He used spirit walking to enter our camp and observe us. Just maybe, I can use the same trick on him. I need to try, at least. I need to discover how he keeps tracking us. Maybe he’s somehow using magic. Whatever it is, I have to discover it before I can defeat it.”

  Asana looked doubtful. He was of a kind that placed his faith in his skill with a sword rather than magic. But that did not mean he underestimated its uses.

  “Have you done this spirit walking before?”

  That was getting right to the heart of the matter. Aranloth and Kareste had both talked over the theory with her and Faran, but they had not exactly taught it. It was a thing that Ferla had not done, even once. Yet she did know the theory and she had thought she picked up a feel for it just watching Savanest.

  “No. I’ve never done it. But I’m going to try to. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  They did not like it, especially Kubodin who seemed to have some knowledge of the art. But in the end, they agreed to it and let her be.

  She moved away a little bit and sat down cross-legged. The others remained quiet, and gave her the peace she needed.

  Slowly she breathed, focusing on the har-harat point beneath her navel. It was the center of meditation, and she felt the world slip away from her. There was just her, her slow and deep breaths and the har-harat point where the energy of her body and the magic she commanded swirled together.

  After some time, she shifted the focus of her meditation. Now, she raised it to the olek-nas point between her eyebrows, what Aranloth had called the third eye.